The Unforgiven
by Luce Ravenier
Summary: People are scared of what they don't understand -- and elementals definitely fall into that category. HIATUS
1. A Couple of Killers

The mountain lion rubbed his massive head against the youth's shoulder. He turned his head and smiled. Qué es, amigo? he asked, his voice lilting slightly. The cougar rumbled and looked to the north, ears flicking back and forth at the darkness. There was no moon tonight. Rio looked at the roan and the bucksin pack horse, watching them for signs. Their ears also twitched toward the north, their eyes searching. The roan whinnied, but there was no answer.

Over 15 minutes, the roan continued to call into the darkness. Finally, there was an answer, when the hoofbeats were audible to his ears. He wished the horse would have shut up. Rio slipped to the other side of the fire where his bedroll, saddle and all his other belongings were seated on the dusty ground, removed a pair of Colt Bisleys that his father had used for many years, checked the rounds in them and slid them into their holster and covered them with his jacket and sat back down. The hoofbeats were closer now. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. He pulled his thick black hair back behind him, wishing he had not lost the leather tie for his tail.

Within minutes, the hoofbeats slowed then stopped just behind him. The lion stood and splayed his front legs, lowering his head between his knees and baring his teeth, eyes glowing chocolate in the darkness, and growled low. The new horse shied and skittered sideways, its rider speaking softly and calmly to it. Rio could not tell anything about the rider from the voice, for it was too low to hear. The horse stopped crowhopping and stood, though Rio knew one more display of predatory instinct from the lion and the horse would be gone like a shot.

Estás facil, compadre. Está bien, he said. He settled his hand on the lion's wide forehead and the big cat calmed, sat down again. Rio looked up and called into the darkness. Está bien, señor. Mi no va a comer tú o tu caballo.

Está bien que nos no va a comer, a woman's voice replied in West. It shocked and relaxed him slightly, to hear a woman's voice come from the darkness. Habla este? she asked.

Perdón, señora. I speak este, he replied.

Good. You mind sharin camp with a stranger?

Depends, señora.

On what?

On whether my compadre decides he likes you or not.

Think I'm good to go?

Probably.

Speaking to the horse softly, she led him around opposite of Rio and his belongings, into the light radius of the campfire, and for the first time Rio could see her. Her hair was blond and messily braided down to her lower back, the tip of the braid brushing her reddened black duster where her belt would be beneath it. The Stetson atop her head was black and reddened as well, the hatband braided rawhide. She slung the saddle and packs down from her black gelding onto the ground, spread the blankets seperately on two sagebrushes, removed a brush and curry from a pocket on her duster and began to groom the foam from his coat. Her shirt was dark green and loose and laced up the front, her vest creamcolored and the jacket over it all tooled and wellworn like the leggings she was wearing over the faded fitted men's jeans.

Is there water around? she asked. In response he unscrewed his canteen top and poured some into his empty dinner tin and handed it to her. She nodded in thanks and held it to the gelding's muzzle. He drained it almost immediately. Rio poured more in and let the gelding drink until he was satisfied. Rio sat back down with his tin and his canteen and watched silently while she groomed the sweat away. She slipped the bridle off but did not appear to be worried when the gelding shook heartily, walked a few paces off and laid down in the dirt to roll then stood again and shook again. She waited with a rope halter in her hands, whistled softly. The gelding walked back to her obediently, stuck his nose in the loop she presented and waited with his head down while she tied the halter snugly. Dropping the lead on her saddle, she walked around it and slipped off her duster. The gelding tucked his legs beneath him and laid down. He didn't move when she settled against him, using his ribs like a chair back.

Where did you come from, señora? he asked. She tapped out a cigarillo and lit it, the sweetsmelling smoke wafting up to the stars. She looked at him steadily.

I aint older than you.

Señorita, then.

She blew a ring of smoke into the air, watched it go. Her gelding wrapped his head around and nuzzled her side; she leaned over and removed handfuls of grain from a saddle pocket, deposited them on the ground in front of his nose and leaned back against him. He nickered and began eating.

Where did you come from?

North.

I gathered that.

Quickern a rattler.

That's what Papá said.

I come from the town up the way, she said. She motioned with her cigarillo.

You live there?

Hell no. Just goin through, didn have anywhere better to go, so I stayed, she said. She dragged at the cigarillo, released the smoke into the air. They didn like the way I acted. Thought I should act like a lady. One of em tried to get sweet with me, so I shot him.

Rio's eyes widened. De veras, he said.

Damn straight, señor. I dont like bein fucked with. They chased me out. I thought poor ol Spider here wasnt goin to make it, she said. She patted the gelding's shoulder affectionately, then her eyes fell on the white-and-black mountain lion that was watching her and the horse coldly. She motioned at him with her cigarillo. Where'd you get the cat.

Oh, Fuego Blanco and I have been together since I was a kid. My people think I'm godtouched.

Godtouched, huh.

He nodded gravely. Guardians of the gods are always sent in animal form. Humans are afraid of animals because they cannot understand them.

She flicked the cigarillo out into the shadows, the dying orange tip extinguished in the wind. I just want em to understand that if they try an eat me or Spider they'll get shot, she commented.

Fuego wont eat your horse.

I'm holdin you responsible if he does, she said. She extracted jerky and a fifth of dry whiskey from a packroll by her saddle and supped shortly on that, then put the fifth away when the jerky was gone. She laid down against her horse with her hat over her eyes.

Señorita, are you going back north?

To town?

Sí.

Hell yeah. I got to.

Why?

They still got the White Munster and some other shit at the hotel.

The White Munster, señorita?

My packhorse. He's a big sonovabitch.

-

He was cooking what looked like two skinned rabbits on the spit and a pot of coffee over the coals. Her hair was mussed and black hairs stuck out in places from her braid. She rubbed her eyes groggily and watched him absently, blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes.

Buenos días, señorita.

Mornin'.

Tienes hambre?

Mm. She stretched backwards over her horse and he heard her vertebrae pop. Breakfast sounds like a good thing, if'n I'm goin back north, she replied and looked at him. You goin north too, I spect.

He nodded.

What you want up there? That town aint shit.

I'm looking for my nephew, he said. He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it over. She took it with a nod of thanks and sipped slowly.

You speak East awful good. Where'd you learn.

Papá was an educated man. Self-educated, but intelligent still. He taught us all East.

Us all?

I have two sisters and a brother. He looked at her squarely in the sudden sharp beam of the morning. You speak West well, for a gringa, he said. He handed her part of a rabbit carcass and poured her another cup of coffee, gave the whole rabbit to Fuego and started on the remaining half.

My father taught me when I was little.

Mexicano? he asked.

No, from California. Was a vaquero, a damn good one, she said fiercely. A challenging light glittered in hard gray eyes.

Was?

He's dead now, she muttered after a pause, and drank more coffee.

Lo siento.

Hn. Dont be. He was a sorry bastard when it came down to it, she said. She slung the dregs of her coffee into the brush with the rabbit bones and stood up. It took a minute more, but Spider followed her example and trotted off into the brush. She walked a few yards off and squatted behind a sagebrush.

Standing again, she stood facing the sunrise, unbraided her hair and let it flow loose down her back and shoulders. The leather strip used to tie it went into her pocket. It takes a day and a night to get there from here, she called to him.

Then we should get started now, shouldn't we?

If we stop an rest at noon for a couple hours, we can go on through the night an not worry about overheatin anything.

Sounds good to me.

She whistled and walked back to camp, set her hat on her head and slipped out of her jacket, picked up her duster and put it on. Spider came trotting up to her and stood by her side while she groomed him off again and slung the blankets on his back and saddle on those. She buckled the breast collar and the two cinches, strapped her small packrolls and jacket behind the saddle and bridled him, putting the halter away in the middle of the rolled-up jacket. She stepped on and waited while Rio put out the campfire, handing him the lead for his packhorse when he stepped on his mount.

Whats your name, cowboy, she asked. He noticed she had a tendency to ask questions as more like interrogatory statements.

Rio Sanchez, he told her. She looked at him skeptically.

If thats your name you're the lyinest sonovabitch that ever goddamn was.

Spose that makes me a lyin sonovabitch, then.

You're Cuchillero? You oughtta be dead.

I'm his grandson.

I be goddamned.

Maybe so.

Goddamn.

Who are you, señorita? he said dryly. She didn't answer for a minute, staring at him.

Rian McCarty.

You wouldnt be Justice McCarty, would you.

Might be.

Mm. Guess that makes us a couple of feared and well-known killers.

In the eyes of a lot of people, yeah.

Will that get us killed?

Maybe. I gotta better chance than you alivin, though, if'n somebody starts shootin.

Whys that.

You're Mexican.


	2. Don't Tip the Scale

Sun's gettin awful high, she said. We'll stop when we hit the river.

The river?

Yeah. That thing you're named for. The river. She pointed at the long stand of trees and darkgreen brush stretching across the plain in front of them. It was only 100 yards away. That thing there.

Mm. Thanks for telling me what my name means.

Anytime, ol buddy. You just ask.

They trotted in silence to the river and stopped there. Rio tied his horses to a tree and unsaddled them both. Rian unsaddled and unbridled Spider before haltering him and wrapping the rope around his neck close to the shoulders. She shooed him away and he trotted down to the river, stepped in and stood for a minute before going all the way in and standing with his head just above the waterline. She watched him for a moment, chuckling softly.

Spider, yer one crazy SOB, she said. The black gelding nickered and splashed at the water's surface with his muzzle. Rio was building a site for a small campfire a ways off. She watched him absently and her eyes widened when he touched a piece of wood with a finger and it blossomed into flame. He looked at her and noticed her eyes and knew she had seen him.

Dont try and shoot me, señorita. Fuego wont allow it.

I aint gonna shoot you, son, she replied. Stepping to the small shadow between three bushes, she bent down and touched the darkness with two fingers, standing up and pointing toward the trees ahead. The darkness flowed swiftly toward Rio, then stopped when she closed her hand into a fist and brought it back to the tiny shadow it was. His pupils were slightly dilated.

Eres una Obscuridad, sí?

Sí. Y tú, eres un Fuego.

He nodded, grinned slightly. Guess that's why we're so damn hard to find.

That's why I'm hard to find, she replied. They cant find what they cant see.

They also cant find what they wont look for. And they wont look for somebody they think has burned.

I know it. Does fire bother you, son?

How do you mean?

Can you walk into fire an it not hurt you? Can you come out with it all over you an it not burn a single inch of skin?

Sí, señorita. Thats the way it's always been. It's why my people think I'm godtouched.

Funny how things work out, aint it, she said, one hand on her hip, unmoving, watching him.

You're supposed to be evil, he said. Still he stayed down, one knee on the ground and the other propping his elbow up, icy blue eyes watching her.

An yer sposed to be a devil, she replied. Does that make you a devil an me evil?

I dont know.

She shrugged. Maybe it dont matter.

Maybe.

If'n I was evil, wouldnt your cat've killed me?

I dont know. If'n I'm a devil, and he's my compadre, then wouldnt that make him a devil too?

You a devil?

When I checked last I wasnt.

Aight then, she said. Rio didn't see her gesture, but suddenly the tiny shadow flowed toward her and grew and enveloped her. She became featureless, faceless, nameless, foreign. She walked to the river and stepped in. The farther in she went, the less she was covered in shadow and when she ducked under the water the shadow floated on the surface. She didn't come up right after and her clothes floated up to the bank. Rio gathered the soaked clothing and hung them from the mesquite branches. Her boots and hat were nowhere to be seen. He turned back toward the fire. Fuego rubbed on his shoulder.

Qué piensas, amigo? he asked. Está diciendo ella la verdad?

The lion gave him no answer. Rio smiled.

Mm. Pienso que ...

Piensas qué, señor? she asked. He looked at her. She was resting on the opposite side of Spider from him, her arms over the horse's back, her muscles taut under the layer of lightly tanned freckled skin.

Pienso nada, he said. She grinned.

Mm. Could you do me a favor?

Depends.

Could you get the soap outta my pack? she asked. Rio got up and rummaged through the pack with her guidance and finally found a cloth and a bar of soap and threw them both to her. She smiled gratefully and leaned against the horse that blocked the river current and began to wash herself. Rio respectfully turned away from her and kept his back turned. He heard the soft splash that probably meant she was rinsing herself off. Fuego growled suddenly, sharply, and the soft click from behind had nothing to do with the girl washing in the river.

I suggest ya dont move, a male drawled behind him.

Qué quieres, señor?

Dont play stupid, mexican. I heard you talkin East.

All right. What do you want, señor?

What're you doin here.

Resting until the heat lessens.

This aint no place yer allowed, the stranger said. Another click by the bank and Rio felt the tension behind him increase.

Dont move if you like your head, Rian said softly. She stepped forward slowly, the gun trained on her enemy's head, until she could get close enough to reach over and remove the Colt Model 1877 Lightning Double Action from his hand. He glared at Rio since he couldn't see her. Siddown, she said. Her prisoner did so and Rio turned to get a look at both of them. Rian didn't have anything on but the dirtied green shirt and her hair was soaking the fabric. She had in her hand mother-of-pearl-handled Colt Single Action .45 with a 7½-inch barrel. The barrel's iron was burnished and the grips were rounded and fitted to her hand comfortably.

The stranger had a bandanna over the lower half of his face. Rio pulled it off to reveal the irate sneer. His eyes were dark, dark brown and the hair beneath the beatup gray Resistol was curly and sunkissed brown. His shirt was white and the vest gray, wearing batwing chaps and a gunbelt. He was taller and thinned out, almost too thin.

You know him, Rio? Rian asked softly. He shook his head, taking his eyes off the stranger for a moment. He must have moved, because Fuego roared and leaped, pinning the stranger to the ground. A stream of muddled curses drifted up from the ground. Rian walked over, pointed the muzzle of her pistol at his hatcovered face.

I wouldnt do that again, if I were you, señor.

Does it look like I'm gonna have a chance to? the stranger snapped. Rian looked at Rio and motioned with her pistol barrel.

Fuego, Rio said softly. Venga, por favor. The lion growled low but complied.

Stand up. No silly shit, Rian said. The stranger did so, picking his hat up and putting it back on his head sourly. Turn around, she told him. He did so, too quickly, because the muzzle was touching between his eyes.

Easy, lady, he said.

Easy yourself, ya little bastard. She looked him over. Hell, Rio, this little sonovabitch aint but sixteen.

I'm almost eighteen.

I dont give a damn how old you are or how big a boy you think you might be, she replied. You aint old enough to be runnin around riversn shit with guns.

He glared at her. You dont look no helluva lot older, he challenged.

I aint supposed to. I'm a lady.

That carries a gun.

Gettin to where ya have to, all these little boys runnin around thinkin theyre bigger than they are. She looked toward Rio. Whaddya think. Take im into town or shoot im where he stands.

Wheres your parents at, chico, Rio asked.

Ma's dead, Pa's gone, the kid snapped. I got to makin my own damn livin.

She picked up the pistol that she'd taken from him and put it in her pack. She looked the kid over, uncocked her pistol and set it down. The packs were moved by Rio's, where Fuego rested nearby. She looked at the kid. I dont know where yer from, and by God, son, I dont care. Gwan and get outta here.

You've got my gun, he told her with a deadpan tone.

Mmhmm.

I aint leavin without it.

Well, then, Rio said. I guess you can stay for lunch. Looks like you need it, anyway. The kid glared at him; Rio just laughed. Rian gathered up some clean clothes and walked away, into the mesquites. A wall of darkness sprang up behind her and the kid's eyes got big. He looked at Rio and the fire.

Oh, goddamn, he whispered. Mary save my soul, yer devils.

We're not devils, chico. We're just people.

They were on their way again, just before the sun began to drop below the landline. Both horses were rested, their riders fed and their companion content. The kid had eaten quickly and practically run near-immediately after eating. He'd left his pistol behind in his haste to get away; Rio had it tucked against his belt until he could buy a respectable holster. Both he and Rian were damphaired underneath their hats, as well as the horses and even Fuego. She'd gone down to jeans, chaps and her vest rather than having the shirt and the duster on over it all, revealing suntanned arms in no danger of burning. Rio himself wasn't far off from looking the same, with his sleeves rolled up and no vest over it.

It oughtta be dark by the time we get to town, she said.

Sí.

Piensas que ... She drifted off. He looked at her.

Qué, señorita?

She shook her head. Es nada, señor.

Si dices.

They rode on.

She dismounted and handed the reins to Rio. He looked at her.

Qué está haciendo?

I want you to take him back aways an wait for me. If'n ya'd do me the favor.

I'll wait.

Muchas gracias, señor. She stepped into the shadows and melted away. Fuego growled. Rio looked down at him as he turned the horses around.

Estaría manso, tú gato enorme? Fuego snorted at his human compadre before they trotted back the way they had come.

She appeared inside the barn. There was no light. For her it wasn't difficult to see.

Munster, she whispered. Horses shifted and snorted softly, but there was no definite answer.

You white bastard, where are you? A horse began to paw in its stall, slamming a heavy hoof against the stall door. She followed the sound and grinned when she peeked in and saw the huge mass of gray Percheron-Quarter Horse waiting expectantly behind the wooden door. She looked around. Now where would they have put her things? Her eyes landed on the tackroom door and the ladder to the loft. She went to the tack room and opened the door, freezing a moment when she saw the night watchman sleeping in a chair. As quietly as she could, she walked past him to where the bridle hung - it was easy to pick out, stout leather on a curb bit, rather than all the useless-looking rigs that hung around it. She stilled any bits or other metal that would jingle as she moved, then made her way back outside. The packs hadn't been in the tackroom, so they could only be in the loft.

She bridled the Munster and led him right under the ladder, stopping him and dropping the reins with a soft command before she headed up the ladder nimbly. Sure enough, there were the three packs and the extra saddle. Everything she owned. She brought the saddle down and tacked him up as quickly and quietly as she could. Then she took the heaviest pack down and settled it on Munster's back before going up for the last two. When she had tied them on, she hopped on his back behind the packs and hung on tight with her knees as she guided him slowly toward the open barndoors. She had just made it out of the building when a yell shattered the darkness.

Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!

Shit, she cursed, kicking the white giant into a run and ducking close to the packs and the muscled neck. Someone shot over her, twice, causing the White Munster to swerve and Rian to nearly lose her seat, but she held on and they were out of town, thundering down the faint road through the sage, hugging close to the sweaty hair, ignoring the jarring four-beat run.

Rio, she said when she finally found him. Getcher ass in those trees now! It's our only chance.

What've you done now that's making us take our only chance? he replied acidly. She gave him no answer, simply trotted the heaving White Munster into the tiny stand and waited. He had no choice but to follow, bewildered and irritated with her sudden command. When Fuego had come in the grove, she slid off the giant's broad back, and took a handkerchief from her back pocket and tied it around Rio's horse's eyes before holding onto the reins carefully. She glanced at Rio.

You might want to giddown from there. Hold your horse and whatever. I might let go by accident, she told him. Rio stepped down and took his horse's reins, watching her suspiciously. She backed up against the Munster, who moved her hair with his heaving breaths, and swallowed hard. Dark as it was, she didn't have to work hard to find a shadow or two to use. Darkness sprang up around the grove and cloaked them from sight. Rio blinked and took a step back, startled by the sudden and utter darkness. He was blinded, by almost all accounts, although none of his other senses had been altered in the least. Fuego crouched irritably at his side and growled low, striped white coat almost glowing in the circle of darkness.

Within minutes, they heard horses' hooves coming up on them, then by them, and finally thundering past them. On the posse went, not bothering to check or look around for anything out of the ordinary. When the sound of the hooves had vanished completely, the complete darkness dropped and the moonbeams came in through the tree limbs. Rio sighed inwardly with relief and shoved his horse's muzzle out of his way to look at Rian. As if on cue, she dropped to the ground, raising a thin shade of dust, and sat there on her knees with her chest heaving to get air. The giant white gelding nudged her shoulder gently, and the black gelding took a few steps toward her, snuffling with his nose outstretched, reins hanging over his ears. Rio dropped the reins and went around to help her, and checked when he felt how cold and saw how gray her skin was.

Didn't think it came without a price, didja? she laughed huskily. Her voice seemed to have shrunk to somewhere else in her body. He cursed softly.

Come on, señorita. We need to go, before they come back.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Gimme a minute.

I dont think we have a minute, he said. She told him to go to hell, but he ignored her and bodily lifted her onto Spider's back and tied the reins loose around the saddle horn. She slumped over horse's neck, still breathing heavily, but staying on nonetheless. He untied her kerchief from his horse's eyes and tucked it in his back pocket, mounted up and swung down again to catch the White Munster's reins. He heard her muttering to Spider, or maybe to herself.

Come on, señorita. Before they come back.

All right, goddamn it, she replied hoarsely. She sat up and nudged the black horse into a trot with her knees, still sitting the trot even as bad off as she appeared. The White Munster followed and nearly dragged Rio off his own horse, before he kicked it up into a trot, bringing his own buckskin packer up behind him. Fuego trotted, as always, at his side as they went off into the darkness.

-

They had gone a long ways past the town when Rio finally stopped to make camp. Rian was still rasping for breath, though it sounded better than it had before, and slumped over Spider's coal-dark neck. The White Munster shifted from foot to foot next to the black gelding. Fuego sat primly in the dust betwixt the buckskin and the roan, holding their reins down beneath his huge paws. Rio started a fire hastily, muttering invectives under his breath in hurried and fluent West. After the campfire was blazing to his satisfaction, he unsaddled and unpacked his horses, hobbled both and set them loose, then took Rian down from the gelding's back and set her on the ground, using his saddle for a pillow. Her skin was still grayish and cold to the touch. Blue tinged her lips and her eyes and her fingertips. She looked gaunt and underfed. A ghost.

Mirela, Fuego, he told the cat, eyes darting back to the woman as he said so. The mountain lion rumbled softly and laid down next to her side, nosing her cheek gently. Rio untacked both Spider and the White Munster and went to hobble them, but Rian's harsh whisper caught his attention. He went over to her.

Qué dijiste, señorita? he asked.

Dont hobble either one of em. They'll stay. She turned her head to the side and coughed, her body wracked with it.

All right, señorita. I will not hobble them, he said and swallowed hard.

Good.

What can I do?

Uh? she asked unintelligibly. Her eyes rolled up and back into her head, black as night and glowing in the firelight, which no longer seemed as bright. She arched off the ground, hissing. Fuego growled at her and stood up, hackles raised, showing bright teeth. His coat was bright in the darkness. His horses squealed at something and danced outside the edge of the camp circle. Hers stared at the two humans and the cat.

Señorita? he asked, beginning to fear. He drew back without meaning to as her body began to writhe, but he didn't think it was wholly her doing. Fuego snarled. Señorita!

It's not me, she spat. I didn't do it, it's not my fault go to hell I'll take you there you sonovabitch.

Díos mío, he whispered. Díos ayúdeme.

She kept muttering to the sky, her body arching and slamming back into the ground, fingers digging furrows into the dirt, teeth gnashing against one another. Fuego roared suddenly and stood astride her, front paws on her shoulders with claws half-unsheathed, tail whipping violently behind him. He bared gleaming white fangs in her face as black eyes stared.

Fuego, no, he said sharply. Pare ahora, Fuego Blanco. No la mate!

Fuego ignored him, continuing to growl furiously into Rian's face. His coat was blinding to Rio, who was beginning to sweat profusely, as if in the midst of a bonfire. Behind him, he could hear the roaring of the campfire, but knew he hadn't made it big enough to be so loud. With an effort, he turned and gasped at the size of the fire, now much higher than his head as he sat on the ground, and a darker red than he had ever known a fire to be. It made him shudder uncontrollably, to see a fire so perverted. He snapped his attention back to Rian as she growled like an animal. The horses screamed and fell in the darkness, their hobbles preventing them from flight.

She tried to get out from under the huge, snarling cat. Thrashed and beat herself against the ground, but with no success of moving the striped beast. He pressed clawtips into tender human flesh, bringing tiny points of blood to the surface to well in pristine beads of red. She did not appear to notice the blood on her arms, nor acknowledge the pain surely caused by Fuego digging into her. She fixed horrifyingly black eyes on the lion's brown ones and snarled at him viciously, baring teeth in a mockery of the lion's own ferocity, and opened her mouth to let loose a replica of his scream. He answered her with one of his own making, directly in her face, and closed her face from nose to chin in his teeth. His coat blazed bright white, burning Rio's eyes. He cried out, a garbled sound, but he did not move. Her eyes grayed slowly to their normal color. Fuego released her and licked the blood from her arms with gentle swipes of his rough tongue. The fire died down. Rio stared at her and at the lion, his body shivering. His horses still feared in the darkness. Hers were calm and unblinking.

She swallowed hard, eyes shut tight. Her lips stretched into a taut, dry smile.

He wasnt gonna kill me.

What just happened?

I didn stop to think. I coulda just covered us and the horses. But I didn. I took too much.

What do you mean?

Nobody ever taught you what happens if you take too much? she asked. There's a balance to this thing. If you use too much, you set the balance on its head. You give in to the thing that wants power, the evil thing inside. There's different balances for everybody, every power. She rolled on her side and let out a frame-wracking cough again, hawking and spitting into the darkness. Go see to your caballitos, she told him. They're worse off than me.

He did as she said, standing aquiver and using Fuego as a balance. He went into the darkness with soothing words on his tongue, calming the overfrightened horses with his words and his tone and his hands until both he and the horses were calm again. Then he returned to the camp circle, where Rian was sitting against Spider's ribs, her hat on his hip and her hair spread plastered against sweatdamp skin. It had color in it again, though she was noticeably paler than he'd seen before. She was holding her fifth and more jerky in shaking hands, though she grinned at him with weak good humor. The White Munster stood behind Spider, one foreleg cocked and his head drooped in a doze. Rio sat down with Fuego at his back, watching her.

You aint gotta be afraid of me now, she said. She took a sip from the fifth.

What just happened?

I told you. You use too much, you tip the balance. Right on the damn head. You fall too much on the wrong side, the power takes over. The part of you that wants power and strength and is evil takes the power and fills you up until there aint no more room for you. Just power and evil. She took a drink.

Mentiras, he whispered, eyes glazing.

What?

Lies.

No, señor, solamente verdad. Truth, she replied. It happens. It happened before. It's happenin now. And it happens worst with umbralites, always worst with us. That's why people call us daemons, because umbralites are always the worst to get caught up in the power. Always the worst to want more.

He shrank from her inwardly. She looked at him.

See, Rio? Even now, you're thinkin about leavin while I'm asleep, or killin me after my eyes're closed. Arent you?

No, he lied, shaken.

Liar, she laughed. You are so. But I caint blame you. Even though I'm not gonna do anything to you, I caint blame you. After all, if I was a daemon, wouldnt Fuego akilled me already? He's a messenger fer yer gods, aint he? He'd know.

Rio looked at his browneyed lion compadre. He wanted to ask the lion if it was true, if she was a daemon and if she should die, but Fuego Blanco only licked his cheek and looked back at Rian and her horses. He was unsure.

He knows, she said. He knows the balance is tricky, and he knows what happens when you go over the edge. That's why he did what he did. To keep me alive.

The lion got up and walked to her side, licked her cheek lightly and stood rubbing his head against hers. She laughed softly and let him have the last of the jerky in her hand. Spider watched him dubiously from one brown eye. Rio was slightly shocked by Fuego's blatant display of affection to anyone but him, which had never happened before. Fuego sat down next to her and stared into the fire. After a while, Rio got up and sat down on the other side of the cat, one hand on Fuego's neck. They were quiet for more than an hour, dozing on and off. Then she glanced at him and looked away in the same instant.

We might as well get on somewheres, she said as she shifted to rise. You might wanna get yer horses and get ready to go.

He nodded slightly and rose, taking one last skeptical look at her before grabbing the bridle and halter and heading into the darkness for his horses. Rian looked at Fuego with a slight half-smile, rubbed his head and stood, looking through her packs for a change of clothes. By the time Rio had returned, she was wearing a shirt underneath the vest, her hair was combed a little and she was in the process of saddling Spider. He threaded fingers through Fuego's pelt as the lion leaned against him, a little heavier than expected, then patted the tiger and set to tacking up.


End file.
